Give : Take
by LordryuTJ
Summary: Heading into a new era of tournaments run by Mephistopheles, it's just another day in Southtown, dealing with another delinquent in her way, but it's a day for Lien Neville that introduces her to someone that intrigues her... [Rated T for swearing, some blood]


**Extended Summary:** **Orphaned by a force of evil, Lien Neville's future has her becoming loosely aligned among that force, as a hired assassin meant to wipe out any potential threats to the gang. As a new King of Fighters tournament, under new rules, draws closer and closer, an altercation she has to snuff out ends up introducing her to a very interesting individual.**

 _ **This is technically the second story I've done relating to King of Fighters, but the first legit thing I've done for the fandom that isn't story-less sex. After getting KOF 2006 and playing a month's worth of it, I feel interested enough in writing something relating to a character or two of it. This story primarily contains elements from the Maximum Impact storyline (down to taking place around the first Maximum Impact game), but with some slight liberties, not just from allegiances, but also a character or two involved.**_

* * *

Southtown was _not_ the safest place to hang around. Home to an ever-growing number of fighters from all around the world – just about all of them were looking towards a goal they wanted to make true through the long-standing _King of Fighters_ tournament. It was only natural that many have looked towards desperate measures and tactics, not just to get an invitation to the tournament, but as a means to win the whole damn thing, and in contrast to the colorful cast that comprises all the KOF vets involved in this town, very few do win the tournament.

When the KOF tournament found itself under new management in the Mephistopheles gang, and under new rules that abolished the trio-based combat in favor of a traditional one-on-one, the competition only increased in ferocity once they all realized it was going to be everyone for themselves, and that many have less of a chance due to teams no longer being a factor. Gangs within the town are only going to further fracture each other in the competition, and with the chase for opportunities potentially getting more aggressive, Southtown was only going to go _downhill_ from here.

That was where Lien came into play.

Working under Mephistopheles, she was discussed around town largely for being the one to not only defeat Fate, the leader of Addes, but kill him. It certainly proved that she was more than just a vixen handling dirty work – her looks and lethality, enhanced by her feat, gave her the nickname of the 'Angel of Death'.

Despite showing clear loyalty to the Mephistopheles gang, little did they know of her _other_ motives – she knew they, primarily the leader in Duke, were the ones who arranged for the death of her father, and ultimately caused the deaths of both her parents.

By now, she was still waiting for the opportunity to present itself for her to off him; it wasn't a matter of 'if' to her, but 'when' - whether or not she would make it to the finals of the upcoming tournament, alongside rumors of the ganglord himself being the one to beat, in order to win it all.

But for now, it was simply a slow cruise from point A to point B, picking off the odd and unfortunate who dared to disrespect her or the structure of the gang.

Lien usually spent her leisure during her prime hours on rooftops, looking down as a means to monitor the more-barren streets on the worse side Southtown – anyone who could be considered a potential threat to herself or the Mephistopheles gang would certainly have a low chance of survival if they ever bumped into her.

This time around, she took notice to someone making a brisk run from block to block. The person of interest, presumed female, looked to be around high-school age – by first look, just barely able to be made out as a late-teen girl clad in maroon. If she was on the run from someone, then she might as well have outran them long ago.

Better to hop down and get up close and personal with this suspiciously frantic runner, than to let them get away like a rat escaping a home it doesn't belong in.

* * *

Malin was coming close to running into a proverbial brick wall of exhaustion – if she wasn't going to be given an invitation, it was probably a better alternative to just steal one from someone else and prove herself to earn a spot for the upcoming tournament. Being as young and reckless as her, the factor of that being a risky and somewhat stupid idea wouldn't have come across the mind – to her, somehow it proved to be successful, as she had stolen from someone already invited as a competitor, and has been running in the moments since.

She probably shook the unfortunate sap a long way's before, but after some time of just running through this shit-hole part of Southtown, she didn't want to take further chances.

Making her way out to the end-point of one of the many dark alleys between buildings, the young trickster stopped and sat on the asphalt, near fully cashed out on her stamina – she brought her head and knees closer together as she seemed to have long escaped potential harm.

...

And then she looked up.

 _Shit._

Having scaled most of the way down the building she was atop moments ago using a convenient stairwell on the side, Lien didn't exactly have the most intel on the little bandit down at ground level – other than she was a participant in the tournament the year before, the last of the 3v3 tournaments ( _at least, for the time being_ ) – but Malin, still a bit of a rookie to the tournament, had enough of a grasp on the gorgeous assassin's reputation based on what she was warned about to know of the danger there was in going against her. She was definitely not the victim of theft, but that would most definitely carry a much easier alternative to the encounter right now.

Lien's lips curled to form a smile not worth trusting. "You look like you're in a hurry."

"It's... nothing you'd be concerned about. Just trying to get someone off my back." Pressure was high, and time came slower, for the former High School Girls team rep.

Lien scoffed. "All by yourself?"

The younger agent wasn't very hesitant to state her case, despite her heartbeat reaching her throat. "I have unfinished business to settle with someone from last year – I'm sure you do, too. Can't do that if I don't make it to the tournament this year."

The bosom-abundant assassin turned her head aside. "Hmph. Hate to say, but you got a point – we've both got our demons to settle. Even then... I don't think you're telling the _whole_ truth.

Malin _had_ a smile at first, but it faded just as her worries picked back up, a combination of fear and frustration. "W-what do you mean? I've _told_ you all I've got to say – were you not listening?!"

"Oh, I've listened," Lien responded. "...Except as far as I know, 19 invitations were sent out, and all were received – none of which I recalled going to _you_."

 _SHIT._

Malin's left hand rattled nervously, wrist-deep into the bag on her belt. That brief movement was _not_ lost to the eyes of the femme fatale before her, with them darting down to the youth's belt.

Lien knelt down to meet the other closer to eye-level, getting about ready to reach out...

...and was met very abruptly with a dagger being pointed towards her throat.

Malin's face, especially her eyes forming such a yard-long stare, reads of someone who was scared to be in such a situation, but still mustered up enough to attempt self-defense against a tough challenge. It was only fight-or-flight from here, and neither is likely to end well.

Lien, on the other hand, looked _amused_ with the risk-taker, although this may just be because she's been long desensitized to having weapons brought _ever_ so close to her face.

Something along the lines of an impromptu brawl, possibly **to the death** , could explode from this...

... _except_...

"A- _HA_! At last I've found you!"

All that the two blondes at odds could do was turn their head towards the abrupt, and admittedly shrill, exclamation.

A brightly-pink haired individual stood not far from the rest, looking _horrifically_ out of place with how she was dressed compared to the other two within these premises, standing 'heroically' ( _using that term rather loosely_ ) with an accusing finger pointed _._ Basing off research alone on participants, Lien could easily deduce this as one of her fellow newcomers to the tournament, the white-mage witch known only as Mignon Beart.

The moment that passed could only derail further with continuing to speak. "Don't think your crimes of thievery from this witch are to go unpunished! Mignon returns to right the wrongs and retrieve what is rightfully hers!"

With the odd one out of this trio of female fighters looking ready to battle, Lien could simply roll her eyes, unimpressed to say the least, as she approached the loudly-colored witch. At least she could assume this as the person that had their invitation stolen by that high-schooler… much to her disdain.

Speaking of, Malin, on the other hand, simply wanted to get out of her sight, already having enough of her voice and just... everything else about her, in general. She almost wanted to smash the back of her own head against the brick wall to knock herself out and spare herself in having to listen any further.

Mignon pointed her finger again, continuing to keep up her heroic tone. "Wait! H-hold it, well-endowed vixen! This doesn't concern-"

 _ **THUMP**._

One unsuspected headbutt from Lien, and poor Beart was out like a light. You'd think she'd be prepared for something, or summon up the durability to tank skull-to-skull contact like that.

"Leave this to a professional," the Englishwoman retorted, staring down to the unconscious magic-user.

With the Mephistopheles-aligned assassin's attention turned away from her, Malin took the opportunity brought upon her, settling for a stabbing point on her opposition's back, one of only a couple parts of her body not covered up by her bodysuit.

If only it ended up that way in reality.

Twisting back around, marking a kick right to the youthful's face, Lien counteracted when she least expected it, afterwards grappling her from behind to hold her against her will with it being considered much of an undertaking for her to escape. At the same time, the kick sent Malin's knife upwards, and wound up landing in the hands of her opponent.

Lien tittered with sinister intentions as her knife-wielding arm wrapped around Malin's neck, the weapon itself held right to the girl's face. "Don't think I forgot about you – a good assassin _always_ has eyes on the back of her head."

Her free hand dug into Malin's little bag of tricks and easily extracted the pilfered envelope from it. "I'll be taking this..."

Meant primarily as an act of intimidation, Lien grazed the knife lightly against the bandana-wearing girl's left cheek, drawing light blood from the scratch left behind, before dropping her back to the ground. She talked down to the fallen foe one more time, "Consider that a warning; next time, you _earn_ your spot to compete."

Malin, having no choice but to step off, didn't have much of anything to say, as she held her cut cheek in one hand. She simply exited, after one last glare...

* * *

Mignon regained consciousness about a minute or two after the attack that she really should've seen coming. Feeling a wet spot under her nose, she wiped at it with her forearm and found blood, responding with a whimper of worry.

Looking up and ahead, she saw Lien, the 'well-endowed vixen', as she called her, leaning against one of the alley's walls a few steps away, casually twirling an envelope in hand.

 _Her_ envelope.

"HEY!" The magic user discarded her worries, replacing with anger, as she sprung back up and marched over. "Give that back-!"

Lien didn't hesitate for a second when she smashed a hand against Beart's mouth and slammed the back of her head against a brick wall. Forget the nosebleed, Mignon had better been lucky her skull wasn't fractured off that.

There was a very slight consideration to maim the poor girl just for trying to get involved, maybe even personally take her out of the competition that way... but once the contact between eyes was locked, something washed over Lien's mind for a moment.

Something about the absolute fear in the witch's eyes, begging to be let go without any further harm, and the combination of the bruise upon her nose and the ooze of red dripping down underneath looked pleasing to the eye in her mind.

It may have been a result of her adjustment to watching victims squirm, wither and / or die over the past year since she joined the ranks among the gang, but... it fascinated her. Enough to smile, even...

That minute felt like an hour before Lien unhanded the pure girl, letting her slide down against the wall and sit... confused... but relieved.

It took a few seconds for Mignon to notice her tournament invitation dropped in her lap.

Lien looked to be about ready to head her own way, leaving the witch to herself to pick up the pieces.

However, Mignon blinked twice before she started to speak up, a little bewildered. "I... I don't get it..."

Back still turned away from the oddball witch, Lien responded. "It's not my job to break _you_ – only those that really get on my nerve... why should _I_ decide your fate when you've already had a bad day?"

It was only then that she began to look back. "...Besides... seeing you in peril... hate to admit, but... it makes me smile. _See you at the tournament, Mignon._ "

The assassin finally walked out of Mignon's line of sight, just as the pink-haired witch began to reach out to her. Just like that, she was gone, and the witch was left to her lonesome, left nothing but to reflect.

She hung her head down, as she murmured one last solemn whisper under her breath.

"... _Thank_... _you_...?"

* * *

 _ **Admittedly, a very odd couple to say the least. I dunno, the stark contrast between the two really made for something to write, especially since I don't think they canonically ever meet in either of the Maximum Impact tournaments.**_

 _ **Anyways, that's a bit of an early Valentine's Day gift; don't expect too much in terms of updates in the coming future.**_


End file.
